Coventry, pale and red alternately, as fear and shame predominated, began to beat about the bush.

“You and I have reason to hate the same man.  You know who I mean.”

“I can guess.  Begins with a Hel.”

“He has wronged me deeply; and he hurt you.”

“That is true, sir.  I think he broke my windpipe, for I’m as hoarse as a raven ever since:  and I’ve got one or two of the shot in my cheek still.”

“Well, then, now is your time to be revenged.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.  What he done was in self-defense; and if I play bowls I must look for rubs.”

Coventry bit his lip with impatience.  After a pause, he said, “What were you paid for that job?”

“Not half enough.”

“Twenty pounds?”

“Nor nothing like it.”

“I’ll give you a hundred to do it again, only more effectually.”  He turned very pale when he had made this offer.

“Ah,” said Cole, “anybody could tell you was a gentleman.”

“You accept my offer, then?”

“Nay, I mean it is easy to see you don’t know trades.  I musn’t meddle with Mr. Little now; he is right with the Trade.”

“What, not if I pay you five times as much? say ten times then; two hundred pounds.”

“Nay, we Union chaps are not malefactors.  You can’t buy us to injure an unoffending man.  We have got our laws, and they are just ones, and, if a man will break them, after due warning, the order is given to ‘do’ him, and the men are named for the job, and get paid a trifle for their risk; and the risk is not much, the Trade stand by one another too true, and in so many ways.  But if a man is right with the Trade, it is treason to harm him.  No, I mustn’t move a finger against Little.”

“You have set up a conscience!” said Coventry bitterly.

“You dropped yours, and I picked it up,” was the Yorkshireman’s ready reply.  He was nettled now.

At this moment the door was opened and shut very swiftly, and a whisper came in through the momentary aperture, “Mind your eye, Sam Cole.”

Coventry rushed to the door and looked out; there was nobody to be seen.

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” said Cole.  “You might as well run after the wind.  That was a friendly warning.  I know the voice, and Grotait must be on to us.  Now, sir, if you offered me a thousand pounds, I wouldn’t touch a hair of Mr. Little:  he is right with the Trade, and we should have Grotait and all the Trade as bitter as death against us.  I’ll tell you a secret, sir, that I’ve kept from my wife”—­(he lowered his voice to a whisper)—­“Grotait could hang me any day he chose.  You must chink your brass in some other ear, as the saying is:  only mind, you did me a good turn once, and I’ll do you one now; you have been talking to somebody else besides me, and blown yourself:  so now drop your little game, and let Little alone, or the Trade will make it their job to lay you.”